Another time, another place
by dust on the wind
Summary: A dangerous mission, and an unconventional agent from London, create a testing situation for one of the Heroes.
1. Chapter 1

The cold never seemed to get any easier. It bit deep below skin and muscle to gnaw at bone.

Kinchloe thought he'd never get used to the cold.

They had been waiting almost an hour, crouched among the undergrowth, moving only when cramp threatened, and then only enough to stretch their stiffening limbs. Their contact was late.

Kinch's companion had been grumbling under his breath for some time: "...ruddy weather...ruddy Underground...I'm too old for this ruddy lark..."

"Newkirk," hissed Kinch, when it got past bearing, "shut up!"

Silence.

"We'll give them another ten minutes," Kinch whispered.

Newkirk shook his head. "They ain't coming, Kinch. If they was coming, they'd be here by now."

"Ten minutes," repeated Kinch.

Almost on the word, they heard the signal. "Not before time," muttered Newkirk, and whistled the response.

Three dark-dressed figures came forward. Two of them were known to Newkirk at least; Kinch didn't get out so often. The third was unknown, slighter in build than the farm lads of the Underground.

"This the package, Hansi?" said Newkirk, nodding towards the stranger.

"_Ja_, your visitor. Tell Papa Bear to let us know when you need return transport. You should go quickly. There are patrols." Well, that explained the delay.

Hansi and his companion slipped away into the night, and Kinchloe waved the visitor forward. "Come on, we don't have much time. Keep as quiet as you can."

The stranger nodded, and followed Newkirk, Kinch bringing up the rear.

The tunnel entrance was a good distance away. Twice, the group had to take cover, keeping their heads down, holding their breath, as a patrol loomed into view. The stranger had not yet spoken, but Kinch could feel trembling in the slender form crouched against his shoulder. _Too nervous - maybe just cold,_ he thought. _Looks young, and not strong either._

They reached the tunnel entrance in the old stump, and after checking carefully all round, Newkirk went first, "There's a ladder," Kinch whispered. "Once we're down, we're safe. Go on."

The visitor nodded again - did he never speak? - and followed Newkirk. Kinch took a last look around before taking his turn.

Down in the tunnel he took a deep breath. Newkirk was leaning against the wall, gazing at the visitor with a startled expression.

"Blimey...!" he said under his breath.

The stranger glanced at him then at Kinch, with wide-set green-grey eyes in a boyish square face, and said, "Thank you," in a soft, low-pitched voice.

* * *

"They might have told us," said Colonel Hogan, regarding the stranger with a bemused, quizzical expression.

She met the look square on. "It was a late decision. The original agent was unavailable. They hoped a more suitable substitute might be found, but when that failed, rather than cancel they sent me."

She was naturally softly-spoken, with a slow, cultured diction. Not pretty; too square in the jaw, mouth too wide, eyebrows unusually heavy. Her dark hair, straight and thick, had been cut short in a masculine style. She was tall for a woman, and quite wiry, and might easily pass for a young man.

Hogan shrugged. "Colonel Hogan, senior POW, in command of the operation. This is Staff Sergeant Kinchloe; Corporal Newkirk."

She had a firm, strong handshake. "Stella Grey." She glanced at Newkirk and Kinch as if in doubt; then she took off the dark coat she was wearing, laying it neatly aside, and slipped a hand up inside her pullover. All three men looked startled, but a second later she drew out a large manila envelope. "This is the information. I'm afraid it's a little unclear. You'll need me to talk you through it."

"Later," said Hogan. "After you've rested."

"I'm not tired. Just hungry."

Hogan nodded to his men. "Kinch, tell LeBeau to get a meal ready for the lady. Newkirk, have we anything for Miss Grey to change into? I'm afraid you'll have to sleep down here," he added, turning to her, "but you might prefer the barracks for meals. Roll call is in twenty minutes, after that it'll be safe."

He gave her his best seductive smile, and was quite put out when she didn't respond to it. But she looked tired, in spite of her disclaimer, so that might account for it.

Kinch had gone on the word. "Will do, sir," said Newkirk, giving her a wink, which elicited a flash of warmth, and the hint of a smile. Hogan felt even more peeved. That East End charm was occasionally hard to beat.

He sighed, and followed Kinch up the ladder to the barracks.

"This way, ma'am," said Newkirk, in his best shop assistant manner, his accent broadening as it sometimes did. "Now, if ma'am would like to take a look at this season's style, we've got this in air-force blue, or in green, much favoured in the States, I believe, ma'am."

The smile deepened; it was really quite engaging, he thought. Then the glow faded a little. _There's something not right here,_ he thought.

"P'raps ma'am would like to try it on?" he suggested.

"Stella," she said.

"Peter. Nice to be on friendly terms."

She smiled again, giving him a bright-eyed glance.

"You remind me of my brother," she said.

_Oh, ruddy hell, that's me done!_ thought Newkirk.


	2. Chapter 2

Carter could not take his eyes off Stella Grey. He sat across the table, wearing a particularly silly half-grin as she devoured the boeuf bourguignon that LeBeau had produced, seemingly from thin air.

She did not seem to mind being the centre of attention; indeed, she gave the impression of being too engrossed in her own thoughts to notice. Kinch, watching her, saw that occasionally she exchanged a glance, and a fleeting smile, with Newkirk, who was sitting on Carter's bunk; and she was quite punctilious about thanking the chef for his work, in what sounded like flawless Parisian French. LeBeau shone with pleasure as he replied, but the conversation dried up almost immediately.

Hogan was immersed in studying the contents of the manila envelope. As Stella finished her meal, and LeBeau removed the empty plate, the colonel laid the documents on the table

"These are floor plans of Schloss Gardheim," he said. "About forty miles from here. Occupied by the SS, for top-secret research, under the command of a Major Fürst. Nasty piece of work, apparently. Information received by London is that they're developing a new kind of poison gas."

"Like mustard gas, Colonel?" asked Carter.

"Something much worse than that, Carter. If the information coming through to London is accurate, this stuff is deadly. It can be transported easily as a liquid, vapourises on contact with air, and is lethal at very small concentrations. You could carry a thermos onto platform three at King's Cross, open it and kill or maim every living thing in the station."

There was a shocked silence in the barracks.

"So our priority is to take this facility out?" asked Kinch.

"Our top priority for the next three days. To do that, we have to get into Gardheim."

"And how do we do that, _mon Colonel_?" asked LeBeau. Hogan turned to Stella and quirked his eyebrows.

She spread out the plans, and selected one, drawn simply but neatly in pencil on draughtsman's paper. "1386; the earliest known layout. Very simple, quite basic, not much in the way of fortification." She selected another. "1453. The castle was extended, and a redoubt thrown out overlooking the valley. Still fairly simple. 1627." A third plan. "The redoubt was extended, and the river was redirected to defend the Schloss on three sides."

"Any significance to these dates?" Hogan asked.

"No known threat existed," replied Stella, "although there were ongoing neighbourhood disputes throughout the period. This is the big one."

She drew out two large envelopes from the scatter of paper, and extracted from one of them a diagram that was clearly different to the others; older, more fragile, the paper yellow and cracked, and the design inked in colour in meticulous detail. "1693. Prince Friedrich Rupert, who was convinced that the Pope was coming with an army of saints, to punish him for being a Protestant."

"Barking," murmured Newkirk.

"Completely," agreed Stella. "This is the biggest phase of modification, and these," she indicated a series of shaded lines, running under the massive structure of the redoubt, "are the siege supply tunnels."

"Are they still there?" asked Hogan sharply.

"Not all of them." She picked up the second envelope, and with great care drew out another aged scrap of paper, so faded and worn that it seemed impossible to make anything of it. "1811. Most of the supply tunnels have gone, filled in or collapsed. Two are still marked - here, and here. Nothing is known of this one, but the other is known to have existed in 1936. However, these two plans are the only ones that show any of the tunnels, and as far as can be determined these are the only copies in existence."

"How do they know it's still there?" asked Hogan.

"Four English undergraduates on a walking tour sneaked in on a dare. They had already stolen these two documents from the University Library in Heidelberg, also on a dare."

_There! _thought Newkirk. The bright-eyed look was there again. _One of those blokes means something to her._

From the door came a warning: "Schultz is coming!"

Stella began to gather the documents together, but Hogan held up a hand. "Don't worry," he said, with a grin. "It's only Schultz."

Sergeant Schultz rolled into the barracks like an overweight barrage balloon. "Head count," he ordered, in what he seemed to imagine was a stentorian bellow. "_Schnell, schnell, schnell_."

He went round the barracks, counting aloud. Then he went round again. His indeterminate chin began to wobble.

"Colonel Hogan," he whispered, "there is one man too many."

"No, there isn't, Schultz," said Hogan cheerfully.

Schultz made a low whining sound, went round again, counting.

"Colonel Hogan, there are sixteen men in the barracks." His voice had taken on a pleading note.

"No, Schultz, there are fifteen."

The wobble had expanded to encompass the sergeant's shoulders. He went round a fourth time, gazing at each man in turn until he got to Stella, who, following Hogan's lead, returned his gaze with wide-eyed innocence.

"Colonel Hogan," stammered Schultz, "I do not know this man." There was now a familiar edge of rising panic.

"Oh, I'm sorry, Schultz. Allow me to introduce Warrant Officer Grey."

Stella extended her hand. "Very pleased, I'm sure," she said, in a bored society voice.

Schultz's jaw dropped, and his eyes bulged. He grabbed Hogan's arm. "Colonel Hogan," he whimpered, enunciating each syllable, "this man is a woman."

"Sure he is, Schultz," agreed Hogan. Nothing could have exceeded his good humour.

"Colonel Hogan, I must inform the Kommandant of this. Women are not allowed in the prisoners' barracks."

"Well, I won't tell if you don't."

"No, no, no, Colonel Hogan, no! I must tell the Kommandant, it is my duty."

Hogan shrugged. "Okay, Schultz, if it's your duty, you go ahead. I'm proud of you. Not every guard would have the guts to brave the Iron Colonel, knowing that he will blame you. Duty before self, eh, Schultz?"

"Jawohl, duty before...b-blame me? Colonel Hogan, why would the Kommandant blame me...?"

"You're the duty sergeant, Schultz, and the lady got in on your watch. But you go ahead. Don't worry, we'll send you food parcels when they transfer you to the Russian Front."

"I'll let you have the socks out of my next Red Cross package, Schultzie," added Newkirk.

"No, no, please, Colonel Hogan," pleaded Schultz, "if the Kommandant finds out, and I did not tell him..."

"He won't find out, Schultz. Now, why don't you sit down, and LeBeau will give you a big plate of boeuf bourguignon, and then you can go back on patrol knowing all is well."

"But how can I know all is well if there is a woman in the barracks? Colonel Hogan, you will get me into trouble."

"She'll be gone before you know it, Schultz," said Hogan in a briskly reassuring tone, while LeBeau waved a loaded plate under the sergeant's nose.

Schultz's chubby, happy-baby face began to reassert itself. He allowed himself to be seated at the table, now clear of papers. Carter kindly removed the gun from his hand while LeBeau laid the dish of rich wine casserole in front of him, and handed him a fork. Then they crept away to Hogan's quarters, leaving Schultz in happy communion with the god of his digestion.


	3. Chapter 3

"I like that game," said Stella. There was a gleam in her eye.

Hogan grinned. "Yeah, confusing Schultz has its moments, but it's a serious business. Where were we? The plans?"

Carter pulled some crumpled sheets from his pocket, while Stella retrieved the rest from inside her shirt.

Hogan's grin widened. "Do you hide everything in there?"

"Certainly. No gentleman would ever demonstrate curiosity about the contents of a lady's blouse."

There was a muffled snort from behind Hogan, and he turned to glare at Newkirk. Carter suddenly became very interested in the floor at his feet, and Kinch suppressed a grin, not very successfully. LeBeau didn't even try. Every so often, it did the Colonel good to strike out.

He regained his composure quickly, and took a businesslike tone. "Why have you brought the earlier plans?"

"The tunnel gets you inside, but the internal layout is complicated. You could spend hours trying to find the right suite of rooms, and just end up completely lost in there. Tony was months sorting it out for you, going over every floor plan and drawing he could locate..."

"Tony?"

The animation dropped out of her face.

"My predecessor." A moment's silence. "Tony Grey. My brother."

Not one of them dared speak. She became aware of their stillness, and looked at Hogan. "You want to know, don't you?"

"If you want to tell us, or if it's relevant and we need to know."

"I don't know if it's relevant." She paused, apparently setting her thoughts into order. "Tony was one of the undergraduates who stole the drawings from Heidelberg, and explored the Schloss in 1936. He was studying archaeology, specialising in architectural history. When the war started, he volunteered, but he wasn't strong enough for active service. So they put him to work in his own field, researching buildings that might be used by the Reich for secure facilities. Gardheim was a special project, as he'd been there already."

"He was to come over and show us all this?" asked Hogan.

"He was to take you there personally. He said he could find his way round Gardheim blindfold, he'd studied it so carefully. But he was still looking for more. He heard there was a book of eighteenth century architectural drawings, in a private collection at Canterbury. He was there at the end of May."

From the corner of his eye, Newkirk saw Kinch turn away, and there was a low mutter of dismay from LeBeau. They had heard about the air-raids, six months before.

"I'm sorry," said Hogan quietly.

She shook her head a little. "It's war. People die. One just has to get on with it."

The bright look was there again, but now Newkirk knew what it meant. _Six months, and she's never cried for her brother. Poor kid..._

"So why did they send you? Surely there was someone else who knew your brother's work."

"I was working with him on it," she said. "Nobody else knows the Schloss as well. They did try to find a more suitable agent, but time is running out."

"The other students who were with him..."

"None of them were familiar with the internal layout. But of course, they were considered. Hugh is a Spitfire pilot, and can't be spared. David was killed in action in North Africa. And Jack - lovely man, Divinity student - went as a missionary to the East in 1938. He was last heard of in Singapore, just before..." She fell silent again.

Finally she raised her head. Her gaze was as direct and as simple as a child, but there was nothing childlike about her words. "Colonel Hogan, I know this is not an ideal situation. Tony was meant to see it through with you. I am prepared to do the same, if you want me. I'm strong and fit, and I am expendable. But the fact is, he trained for the mission, and I didn't. If I thought it wouldn't make a difference, I wouldn't speak, but you may find me a liability. It's your call, sir."

She spoke as a foot-soldier to her own commanding officer, and Hogan recognised it and responded in the same spirit.

"Good point, and I think you're right. If you can teach us how to find our way around, I'd prefer to take my own men. No offense," he added, afraid he'd been too harsh.

"None taken, sir."

"LeBeau, you and I will study the plans. That way if anything happens to either of us we will have a backup. Carter, we'll need explosives, with as long a timer as you can safely manage. If this place is storing poison gas, we don't wanna be anywhere near when it goes off. Newkirk, we'll need SS uniforms and a car from the motor pool."

"Are we going in disguise then, Colonel?" asked Newkirk.

"Only as far as the river below the Schloss. It's easier by car, and better if we don't get stopped on the way. Remember there are extra patrols." Hogan sighed. "I knew it was a mistake to tell Klink about that phony escape attempt. It could be weeks before he settles down. Once we're there, we ditch the uniforms and go in through the tunnel."

"How will you know which part of the castle is the target, Colonel?" asked Kinch.

Hogan prepared to think that through, but Stella broke in. "The original part of the building is the most likely site. As the more recent structure surrounds it on all sides, it's the most secure location, and it also has the largest rooms. Most of the outer construction was designed with siege in mind, and the rooms are quite confined."

Hogan nodded. "That makes sense. Okay, get to work. You should go back to the tunnel," he added, looking at Stella. "Newkirk, LeBeau, see if Schultz is still there. If he is, get rid of him. Carter, do you need any help, or any supplies?"

"Got everything I need, sir. Oh, boy, this is gonna be a challenge." Carter was starting to bubble with enthusiasm. He loved his explosives.

"Good. Kinch, radio London and let them know we're good to go on Wednesday night. And find out about tomorrow's supply drop. We're almost out of candy bars."

"They said something about a new code book, Colonel," said Kinch.

"_Another one?_ What are they running, a competition for the best code?" replied Hogan irritably. "Okay. New code book - but tell 'em not to forget the candy bars."

LeBeau put his head around the door. "All clear, _mon Colonel_."

Hogan met Stella's calm grey gaze, and nodded. There would be no more flirting, he decided. This lady just wasn't interested.


	4. Chapter 4

It was getting late, and Kinch was dozing as he waited for London to call. It seemed to have been a very long day.

Carter was still working in his cubby-hole. He could go for hours without rest, assembling his toys; once the mission was over he would probably sleep for days.

Apart from him and Kinch, only Stella was down there. She had spent the day with Hogan and LeBeau, explaining the development and layout of the Schloss. It looked complicated, but by evening roll-call both of them seemed to be getting it.

She was supposed to be sleeping now. Kinch doubted she was. There was a tension in her, a nervous energy under the calm surface; he didn't know if it was usual for her, or arose from her loss or the current situation.

It was some time before he noticed the low, soft singing. Once it caught his attention, he found he was almost holding his breath. The voice was clear and sweet, like a soprano, but with unusual depth and richness. She was singing in German, without self-consciousness.

_Bist du bei mir, geh' ich mit Freuden, zum Sterben und zu meiner Ruh'..._

He left the radio and went to her. She was sitting cross-legged on the bed, leaning against the wall, apparently unaware that she was singing. Then she noticed Kinch, and stopped.

"I beg your pardon," she said. "I wasn't thinking."

"Don't apologise," said Kinch. "It was beautiful. But you should be getting some sleep."

She shook her head. "Can't."

He knew how exhausting it was, trying to sleep when sleep wouldn't come.

"Come and talk to me for a while," he suggested. "It might help."

She uncurled herself and followed him to the radio room. "Will I have disturbed Sergeant Carter?" she asked.

Kinch laughed. "Carter wouldn't notice if the Glenn Miller Band was in there playing _In The Mood_ - unless they got in his way."

That made her smile, which was worth it.

"You have a beautiful voice," Kinch went on. "Trained?"

She shook her head, glanced sideways at him. A gleam of mischief crossed her face. "When I was thirteen, at school, I had a crush on the singing master. So naturally I went all out to get his attention, and fortunately I had a decent instrument. It's surprising how the right incentive will get results. Of course, he was only interested in the voice, but a girl can dream when she's thirteen."

"And how long did that last?" asked Kinch, pleased to see her looking already less strained.

"Singing lessons, until recently. The crush, only until the next summer, by which time I had a terrible case on a visiting art teacher. I learned a lot that year, too; it's come in quite useful since."

"And the year after that?" Kinch prompted, fascinated.

"Fencing instructor." She giggled - actually giggled - at the look on his face. "I trained three times a week. After that I had to give up having crushes on the teaching staff. I just had no free time left."

He was laughing now, and she joined in. Then they fell silent, but it was a comfortable, companionable silence.

The light faded slowly from her face, and she became pensive; then feeling his eyes on her, she tried to smile. His heart went out to her.

"I'm so sorry," he said. Then, as she didn't speak, he added, "Was he your only brother?"

"Yes, but..." She glanced up towards the hidden barracks entrance. "Those men up there - they're like brothers to you."

"They sure are."

"It was like that for me and Tony, with his friends. We grew up with Jack, and Hughie and David were at Tony's school." She fell silent again, then said, very low, "When we heard about David, it was like I'd lost a brother." Another pause. "Tony took it hard. They were close. They were very close."

Kinch didn't say a word, just waited.

"You know, I don't really grieve over Tony," she said at last. "Part of him died when David went. He was never going to get over that. It feels selfish to grieve for myself. And still...Tony and David are gone. Hugh could go any time. And Jack...well, he never quite got that part about turning the other cheek, I'm afraid. I don't think he's coming back.."

"You don't know," said Kinch, in an oddly tightened voice. "Hugh might get through." He didn't dare guess at Jack's fate, but at that moment he would have given anything to be able to lift a single ounce of grief from Stella's shoulders. Her pain was as real and as inescapable as high tide.

"Hughie will do his duty, and he will not survive the war," Stella said. "I've come to accept that. And if he does, he has his own life." She smiled a little. "When I was sixteen, and the boys were twenty, Hughie and Jack and I made a solemn agreement that I would never marry either of them. Hugh's got a girl, and Jack's wife was in Singapore with him."

"So..."

"So, that's it. After the war, if I'm still alive, I will have to make a new life for myself. Now, I just can't see it."

She looked away, and brushed something from her cheek. Without thinking, Kinch put his hand on her shoulder, a small gesture of sympathy and comfort. She did not look up, but as he took his hand away, her own hand rested against it for just a moment, like a soft exhalation of breath.

For a few seconds, their eyes met; then Stella slipped away, back to her bunk. Kinch felt himself trembling.

_Dear lord,_ he thought, _what am I getting into?_

* * *

_Bist du bei mir, geh' ich mit Freuden zum Sterben und zu meiner Ruh': _"Be thou beside me, and I will go with joy to death and to my rest." G.H Stölzel, from _Diomedes_; often wrongly attributed to J.S. Bach, who included a transcription of it in the _Anna Magdalena Notebook_.


	5. Chapter 5

Both Kinch and Carter were half-asleep at morning roll-call.

"Colonel Hogan," said Schultz, "why does Carter not open his eyes?"

"Sun's very bright this morning, Schultz," said Hogan.

Schultz looked up at the sky. "It is cloudy today, Colonel Hogan."

"Sun's bright behind the clouds."

"Colonel Hogan...!"

"Fine, Schultz. Do you want to know what Carter was doing all last night?"

Schultz's voice dropped in both volume and pitch. "Monkey business?" Hogan just adopted his _I-know-something-you-don't_ smirk. The sergeant closed his eyes. "No. Tell me nothing. I want to know nothing."

He spun round and announced, "All pr-r-esent and correct, Herr Kommandant!"

"Thank you, Schultz. _Dis-_missed," said the Iron Kommandant, turning on his heel and returning to the relative warmth of his office.

As the prisoners dispersed, Hogan tapped Carter's shoulder. "How's it going, Carter?"

"Nearly done, Colonel. Boy, it's hard getting the timing right. See, the longer the delay, the more likely that..."

Hogan interrupted him. Carter could go on all day once started. "Okay, Carter, I get it. Did you get any sleep last night?"

"He never took a break, Colonel," said Kinch. Carter just blinked at them, like a baby owl in the morning light.

"Carter, I want you to go and lie down. Get some rest."

"But, Colonel, I'm nearly done."

"You've got all of today and tomorrow to finish. I need you to get some sleep now, so you'll be fit for tomorrow night. Get going."

"I'll tuck him in, sir," offered Newkirk, taking Carter's arm. "Come on, Andrew, bedtime."

"Kinch, you look all in," said Hogan. "You should take a nap, too."

"I'm not sure if I can," said Kinch frankly.

"It's an order, Kinch. LeBeau, you're with me down below. Let's get this Schloss layout straight."

Seeing no help for it, Kinch followed them into the barracks. Carter was already back in his bunk. Hogan and LeBeau vanished into the tunnel; Newkirk, with a cheery, "Sleep tight, lads," went as well.

Kinch climbed into his own bunk, and lay with his eyes closed. He was keyed up, partly because of the mission, which he sensed was going to be unusually risky. Anxiety for the rest of the team was starting to settle in his stomach. Last night's encounter with Stella was troubling him, too. The more he thought about that last fleeting touch, the more apprehensive he felt.

_Can't be anything in it,_ he thought.

He shifted a little, and sighed.

"You still awake, Kinch?"

"No. Go to sleep, Carter."

"I can't. I just keep thinking about the charges, and getting them just right. You know how things just go round in your head sometimes. It's like that, it's like I'm just testing the connections over and over."

"Think about something else."

Carter fell silent. Kinch turned over on his side, and tried to block out the sounds of the camp outside. There was no point worrying about Stella just now; whatever he'd felt last night, nothing could come of it. He began to relax, giving in to his fatigue.

"Kinch? It's not working..."

Kinch ignored him, and let himself drift. He must have dozed off, because he came out of it with a start when the bunk over the concealed entrance went up and LeBeau climbed out of the tunnel.

"_Pardon, mon vieux,_" he said.

"S'okay," mumbled Kinch. "What time is it?"

"Almost one o'clock. Time for lunch." LeBeau bustled off towards his hidden food store.

"How's things going?"

"_Tout va bien._ We could be ready tonight, if we didn't have the supply drop. And if Carter was not asleep on his feet."

"Did he go back down there?" said Kinch, shaking his head to clear his thoughts. He glanced at Carter's empty bunk. "Man, I must have been well away."

"He did. _Le colonel_ was not pleased." LeBeau gave a little shrug. "But now, he has finished, so I will make him an _omelette aux herbes_ and then he is to sleep until roll-call."

"Omelettes all round, Louis?"

LeBeau gave him a look of scorn. "For Carter, and for _la duchesse, oui. _Not for you."

_So she's a duchess now, _thought Kinch. _I bet I can guess who started that._

As if on cue, Newkirk emerged from the tunnel. Carter followed, and stood rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand.

"_Now_ he wants to sleep," said Newkirk. "Stay with us, Andrew, and see what LeBeau's got for you."

"Is the colonel coming?" asked Kinch.

"Him and the Duchess'll be right up," replied Newkirk, unconsciously confirming Kinch's guess.

Newkirk piloted Carter over to the table and sat him down. "You better be quick, Louis," he said, "cos 'e's about ready to drop off."

"_Á l'instant,_" replied LeBeau.

Hogan came out of the tunnel, and turned to offer a hand to Stella, who accepted his assistance just as if she had not spent the last day and a half snubbing him.

"This way, Duchess, our best table for you. Sorry about the company," said Newkirk. She gave him a reproving look, but the twitch in her lips gave her away. Hogan closed the tunnel entrance and leaned against it, watching his crew with an affectionate smile. LeBeau placed a golden omelette in front of Carter, who was drowsing with his head on his hand. A second omelette materialised for the Duchess, who chose to share with Newkirk, to the chef's annoyance.

"Well, if you'd made me one of me own..." responded Newkirk. To which LeBeau replied with an extraordinarily contemptuous Gallic gesture; but soon there were omelettes for everyone.

Stella was more relaxed now than she had been since her arrival. She was comfortable with the boys now, taking her share of Newkirk's omelette, exchanging remarks in rapid French with LeBeau, occasionally giving Carter a gentle nudge when he seemed likely to nod off. Once or twice she looked up and caught Kinch's eye, and gave him a warm smile. He returned it, then noticed the quizzical look on Colonel Hogan's face. _He's on to me,_ thought Kinch wildly, without any clear idea what Hogan might be on to him about.

The colonel held his gaze for a second or two; then he looked around, and said, "Listen up."

The barracks fell silent instantly.


	6. Chapter 6

"Kinch, watch the door," said Hogan, as he spread a map across the table.

This was the serious part, the point at which every detail of the mission, each man's place in the overall scheme, was laid out and locked in. Every man was alert; even Carter snapped out of his drowsy state. Stella moved back, to give them space. She was not part of this phase of the assignment.

"Newkirk, you've got the uniforms ready?"

"Yes, Colonel."

"Okay, half an hour after lights out, you will get changed in the tunnel and go and get the car from the motor pool. You'll pick up LeBeau, Carter and me at the crossroads. We drive to Gardheim by this road." He pointed to the map, indicating the route. "Less chance of a roadblock. If we are stopped, Newkirk will do the talking."

They nodded, each of them studying the map to memorise the route, in case a substitute driver should be needed.

"There's a derelict barn here, close to the river about a mile downstream from the Schloss. We stash the car and uniforms there, and finish the trip on foot. The supply tunnel entrance is here. If this one turns out to be blocked, then we try the other one, here."

He spread the most recent floor plan of the Schloss on top of the map.

"Once we're inside, our goal is the original castle structure. LeBeau and I are confident of finding it quickly, and getting out quickly afterwards. If there are locked doors, Newkirk will see to them. If we meet any trouble, I will deal with it. In that case, Newkirk, Carter, you follow LeBeau."

The tension increased, as fierce protests hovered on every man's lips. LeBeau's chin went up; Newkirk said sharply, "Colonel..." then bit it back, pinched his lips together, then said, "Yes, sir."

"Good. Now, once the explosives are set, we get the hell out as fast as we can. If we get separated, nobody is to go back. Anyone still inside when it goes up is assumed to be dead."

Nobody spoke. They all knew this was a necessary condition. It didn't make it any easier.

"Once we're out," Hogan continued, "we get back to the car, dress in uniform and drive back by the same road. Now, it's going to be close getting there and back before roll-call. Kinch, if we're delayed, you'll need to run interference.

_And how am I going to do that, Colonel? _thought Kinch. _Sometimes I think it'd be easier if I was going with them._

"Any questions? Good. Carter, this time I mean it. Get some sleep. Newkirk, LeBeau, you'll pick up the supply drop tonight." That was routine; no need for special instructions.

Anything further was forestalled by Kinch, who was still watching at the door. "Klink. Coming here."

"Stella - tunnel," said Hogan. LeBeau gathered the map and floor plan from the table, folding them quickly, while Newkirk thumped on the tunnel bunk to engage the mechanism and Kinch leaned on the barracks door to delay entry.

There was a sudden scuffle from the tunnel entrance, and a muffled, half-gasped exclamation from Newkirk. Everyone froze for a second; then Hogan and Carter both flew across the barracks.

"What happened?" hissed Hogan.

"Bloody thing started closing on me," Newkirk whispered back. "Me 'and's got stuck in the runner."

Hogan grabbed his arm. "Carter, hit it again. Get it open."

Carter slammed at the bunk. It seemed to be jammed; then gave a jerk and slid up again, eliciting a choked protest from Newkirk.

Kinch glanced round. "Stella," he hissed, "over here! LeBeau - the map!"

LeBeau, who was staring at Newkirk, gave a start, and shoved the folded map up inside his sweater, folding his arms over it.

Kinch felt the door move a little as Schultz tried to open it. He shot a look at Newkirk, who was white with pain but still upright. Carter hit the bunk again to close the entrance, and moved in from of Newkirk, who dropped his damaged right hand behind him, leaned against the bunk and tried to adopt a nonchalant expression. Hogan nodded to Kinch, who let the door go and took a couple of steps to shield Stella from view.

With the release of pressure, the door flew open, and Schultz almost fell flat. He staggered, recovered, and pulled himself as upright as such a spherical form could manage. "Achtung!" he squeaked. Everyone ignored him, and continued to ignore as Kommandant Klink swept into the barracks.

"Colonel Hogan," he began, in the voice that quavered between stern command and nervous whine, "I want to speak to you."


	7. Chapter 7

"Certainly, sir," said Hogan affably. "My time is your time. Shall I come to your office?"

It was a false step, he knew as soon as he had spoken. He had rushed the fence in his anxiety to get Klink out of the barracks before the Kommandant spotted Stella, and before Newkirk's stoicism started to come unravelled.

Klink glared at him with anxious, uncertain eyes, which shifted quickly to fix on Hogan's chin. He never seemed able to maintain eye contact; Hogan made him nervous. "No," he said, trying to maintain the illusion of command. "We will talk in your quarters."

Not possible. Stella, hidden from sight behind Kinch, was next to the door; he couldn't miss her. _Why the hell couldn't Klink send for me to go to him? The one time we can't do with him in here, and he has to change the routine._

"Well, Kommandant, if you insist," said Hogan. "I know you're strong enough to take it, and I guess I can stand it for a couple of minutes. Only, if I get nauseous, you won't think any worse of me, will you?" He gave that little downcast tilt of his head, so eloquent of embarrassment. "You know how I value your good opinion, sir."

Klink teetered on the edge of the trap. "Why would you be nauseous?"

"It's the smell, Kommandant. We think it might be a dead mouse. We've looked all over, but we can't find it, and the smell is just...but if it's only for a minute, I guess I can hold out. And I'm sure it's safe, although... How long does it take to catch Weil's disease, anyway, guys?"

"I had a cousin who caught it," offered LeBeau, who probably had no idea what Weil's disease was. "Wasn't even in the same room. Half a day later, he was bedridden."

"But he recovered, didn't he?"

LeBeau shrugged. "He survived. I don't know if you'd call it recovered."

They had him now; where flattery failed, fear and indecision would always do it. Schultz rolled his eyes, and glanced towards the door of Hogan's quarters. His eyes bulged; his chin began to quiver. Then he turned and planted his substantial person at Kinch's elbow.

Klink wavered; the facade wobbled a little, then firmed. "I'm sure it's nothing to worry about," he said, with a dismissive gesture, "but I am prepared to make allowances for you, Hogan. My office, then. Schultz!"

Schultz just boggled at him, unwilling to move.

"The door, Schultz!"

Shooting a look of panic at Kinch, Schultz began to shuffle towards the door. Kinch edged back to let him past, trusting Stella to keep behind him, out of Klink's line of sight.

"After you, Kommandant," said Hogan. He waved Schultz ahead, exchanged a glance with Kinch and sauntered out.

Kinch waited for a moment, then opened the door a crack and peered out.

"Okay," he said, "they're going into Klink's office."

"Coffee pot?" suggested LeBeau.

"No. Colonel Hogan'll let us know if it's anything important."

Newkirk stumbled over to the table, waving off Carter's attempts to help.

"Let me see," said Stella. She took hold of his wrist, and rested the damaged fingers on her free hand, flexing them gently. Newkirk drew a sharp, hissing breath.

"LeBeau, get some water," said Kinch. "Carter - first-aid kit."

"Can you bend them?" asked Stella, regarding the injury with fixed concentration. Newkirk closed his fingers over hers, and winced.

"Oh, blimey, that 'urts," he gasped.

"I know. I don't think you've broken anything, although it's swelling up nicely. You'll have some bruising, might lose a fingernail or two."

Carter came back with the first-aid box, and LeBeau, with eyes averted, dumped a bowl of water on the table. Kinch glanced at him; he was paler than Newkirk. "LeBeau, you better get some coffee."

"Tea," said Stella. "Plenty of sugar, if you have it. I'm going to wash it, Peter. It might sting a little."

Newkirk nodded. "Okay, Duchess, whenever you're ready."

Kinch watched as she began to sponge off the blood. "I guess they had a first-aid instructor at that school of yours," he said.

She spared him a glance. "Don't be silly," she replied.

* * *

In the Kommandant's office, things were not going well.

Klink took his seat behind the desk, a position which partially restored the veneer of dignity that so often splintered when he had to deal with Hogan. The Kommandant folded his hands, index fingers extended, and poised his head in what, in a less foolish-looking man, might have passed for an attitude of condescension.

"Colonel Hogan," he began, "two weeks ago you informed me of a planned escape attempt."

"Well, yes, you dragged it out of me, sir," said Hogan dejectedly.

Klink gave a self-satisfied little head waggle. It was fascinating, watching him do that; the reflected light from his bald dome flickered like a signal lamp. "You should know, Hogan, that you can't hide anything from me."

"It's been a hard lesson to learn, Kommandant."

"A necessary one, Hogan. However, I am puzzled by one thing in this instance. There has been no escape attempt."

"Guess the extra patrols must have put them off, sir," said Hogan, trying to look even more despondent.

Klink regarded him with suspicion. "Maybe. Or maybe the prisoners are trying to lull me into a sense of false security..."

Hogan spread his hands. "I don't think any of the prisoners would try that, sir. They know you too well to think you'd fall for it."

"Maybe not," conceded the Kommandant. "But one can't be too careful. I have a record to maintain. For that reason I have decided that the extra night patrols will continue."

It was the last thing Hogan wanted to hear. The additional patrols were making things difficult enough for normal operations; with a major mission imminent they could prove disastrous.

"I'm surprised you think that necessary, sir," he said, feeling his way, looking for an angle. "After all, it's a bit hard on your men, being out in the woods in this weather."

"Your concern for my men is very touching, Hogan," said Klink, "but I think they can stand a little cold. They are German soldiers, after all."

"...and it does leave you a bit short-handed _inside_ the camp, if anything were to happen."

"You are right, Hogan," said Klink smugly. "So I have cancelled all leave for my men for the next four weeks. And if the escape attempt has not been foiled by then, I will keep extending these measures until it is. _Dis-_missed."

"Sir..."

"_Disss-missed,_ Hogan."

There was a finality in the Kommandant's tone which Hogan recognised, the determination of a weak man not yet ready to be dislodged from his position. Hogan gave it up, and headed back to the barracks.


	8. Chapter 8

Hogan paced the length of the barracks, then back again, deep in thought.

LeBeau was keeping watch at the door; a needed precaution, as the tunnel entrance was open while Kinch worked on the faulty mechanism. Carter had been sent to bed, and was already asleep, and Newkirk looked almost ready to doze off, as well. He was keeping his end up, but he looked pretty washed out.

"How bad is it, Newkirk?" asked Hogan at last.

"Not as bad as it looks, sir. Nothing broken, anyway."

"As far as you know," added Stella.

"Can you use it at all?"

Newkirk's "yes" and Stella's "no" came simultaneously. They glared at each other.

"If you hadn't wrapped it up like a mummy, I could."

"If I hadn't wrapped it up like a mummy, you'd probably finish by making it much worse."

"Okay, enough." Hogan cut the promising dispute short. "Kinch, get on to London, tell 'em to cancel the supply drop."

"Uh, Colonel, I don't think we can," said Kinch, climbing out of the tunnel. "The new code book..."

Hogan let out an exasperated noise, and resumed pacing.

"What time are they calling us tonight?" he asked finally.

"Twenty-two hundred hours, sir. The drop is at twenty-three hundred."

"Colonel, I can manage," Newkirk began.

LeBeau gave an expressive snort. "You think you will get up and down the ladder with one hand? _Bonne chance_, Pierre."

Newkirk seemed ready to argue the point, but Hogan forestalled him. "He's right, Newkirk. I'll have to go."

"Colonel," put in Kinch, "if London wants to speak to you..."

"Fine. Okay. Carter, then. If he's awake by then."

As if he'd heard his name, Carter gave a twitch, and murmured incoherently.

"Oh, yes," muttered Newkirk. "That'll work."

* * *

Waiting around; the worst part of this job. The nearest Kinch ever came to giving up was when there was no immediate activity, and they were just waiting around.

Some of the boys had organised a ball game. LeBeau was playing, not particularly well, but with great enthusiasm, while Newkirk, looking on, kept up a running commentary which became more richly and incomprehensibly Cockney by the moment. Carter was still sleeping. Colonel Hogan, alone in his quarters, would be looking over the floor plan of Schloss Gardheim one more time, testing the mission over in his mind, looking for flaws. Nobody could improvise with more skill than the Colonel, when he needed to; but he never relied completely on improvisation. Not when lives were at stake.

Kinch wandered into the barracks. Carter was in the deep phase of sleep, where his usual twitches and mutterings faded to stillness. He was unlikely to be disturbed by anything short of an explosion, but Kinch did not care to take the chance. He gave the tunnel bunk a gentle tap, and went below.

Stella was alone, and had that pensive look again; but she seemed to banish it by conscious effort when Kinch appeared.

"All well up above?" she asked.

"As well as it ever is," said Kinch.

She shuffled along the bunk to give him some room, and he sat next to her with an unconscious sigh.

"It's hard for you," she said, after a while.

He glanced curiously at her, not sure what she meant.

"All this," she added. "All of what goes on. I haven't been long here, but it seems to me you've got the hardest part to deal with."

"How d'you mean?"

"You have to wait. Colonel Hogan and the others - they all go out and do what needs to be done." She flushed, realising how that must sound. "I don't mean that what you do isn't just as necessary, but it must be difficult, sometimes. Waiting for them to come back. Or..."

She left the thought hanging, and he didn't answer at first. That she should see so clearly what he hardly acknowledged even to himself, shocked him for a moment. He found himself caught between resentment and a curious relief to have it spoken, and he nodded, unable to speak.

"I want to go," he said, at last. "Every time, I want to be there, to protect my buddies, do my part. But there's always that one big problem - how do you account for a black man in the middle of the Reich? So I stay here. And one day, someone's not coming back. And there's not a damn thing I can do about it."

"I know. I would have given anything to keep Tony..." The words trailed off in a quiver of distress; she slipped her hand into his, and they sat in silence for a while. Presently she moved closer, and laid her head on his shoulder. She hardly made a sound, but she was crying, quietly, without reserve. He put both his arms round her, and held her close against his chest, and let her weep.

After a while she became calm, and the tiny catches in her breathing eased. He thought she might be falling asleep, but when he tried to lay her down, she stirred. "Don't," she said. "This is nice."

At last she lifted her head and met his anxious gaze. She gave him a wavering smile. Unthinkingly he brushed the mark of tears from her cheek; she closed her eyes, and turned her face towards the touch of his fingers. Then she lifted her face towards his, and kissed him.

He tensed, and put his hand up, just touching her kips. "Stella..." he whispered .

"Oh, don't," she said again. She clasped his hand, and drew it away, holding his gaze with her own.

Much later, Kinch murmured, "I guess we shouldn't have done that."

"Are you sorry?"

"No."

"Nor am I."


	9. Chapter 9

"Papa Bear, there has been some activity at the viper's nest. Viper appears to be preparing to move house. Please ensure delivery of mail is on schedule. Repeat, mail must be delivered on schedule. Over."

Kinch and Hogan exchanged glances. "Message received," said Hogan. "Papa Bear out."

"Great," said Kinch. "No pressure."

"Yeah. We gotta get those extra patrols called off," said Hogan. Then, as Kinch just looked at him, "I'm working on it."

He stretched, and headed for the ladder. "Let me know when LeBeau and Carter get back. And after that, get some shut-eye, Kinch. We've got a big day tomorrow." He gave Stella a nod, and a little raised-eyebrow grin, and vanished into the darkened barracks above.

"He knows something's going on," said Kinch.

"Well, I don't mind," replied Stella, "if you don't."

Kinch sighed. "He could bust me so far down for this, I'd spend the rest of the war saluting the bugs in the mess." _At least, he could, if he didn't have a few encounters of his own to bear in mind..._

"Why would he do that?"

"I'm not saying he would. Just that he could, if he thought I'd put the operation at risk."

"Which you did not - _we_ did not. My part in this operation is done, and you weren't on duty."

"Stella, I'm always on duty."

She thought that over, and came to a reluctant agreement.

"I don't want to say it," Kinch went on, "but it can't happen again."

"Afterwards...?"

"Afterwards, you'll be heading back to England."

"And that's an end to it?"

"That's an end to it."

She looked down, twisting her fingers. "I don't want that," she said.

Kinch had to clear his throat, which felt unusually tight. "Stella," he said slowly, "we only got to know each other because of this war, because of things that nobody wanted to happen. Because..." He stopped, unwilling to bring her brother's death into the discussion. "Any other time, any other place, we wouldn't even meet."

"This isn't any other time or place, Kinch. And we did meet."

"I know. Look, suppose we did get together some time in the future, and you took me home to Mom and Dad - what are they gonna say, Stella?" He didn't put into words the objection that he saw all too clearly, but she recognised it, and her eyes flashed.

"Tony brought someone home, once," she said.

The tunnel entrance rattled open. "Kinch!" hissed a voice from above.

Kinch ran to the ladder. "What's up?"

"All hell's broke loose up here," replied Newkirk. "They're clearing the barracks."

_Carter and LeBeau! _thought Kinch. He gave Stella a warning look, and ascended. There was just enough confusion to allow him to slip out with Newkirk and line up. Hogan was already in his place.

"Not good, sir," murmured Newkirk, taking his position next to the colonel.

"No. Not good," replied Hogan, watching out of the corner of his eye as Schultz bustled along the line, trying to bring order. "If they made the pick-up and have the code book, it's a disaster. And if they didn't, we've still got the Krauts looking for how they got out. We need a hole in the wire."

"Colonel, they could keep us standing about out here for hours," Newkirk whispered. "No way can we get someone down the tunnel to cut the wire."

They fell silent as Schultz came towards them. "No talking in line," he ordered nervously. He started counting, moving back towards the other end of the row, just as the patrol arrived, escorting a worried Carter and a furious LeBeau to the steps of the Kommandantur, where Klink was waiting.

"Colonel, I have an idea," said Kinch quietly. "Can you stall for a while?"

"Kinch," said Hogan, "how can you doubt it? Tell her to be careful," he added, as he moved forward.

"_Nein_, Colonel Hogan," protested Schultz, scurrying back. "You must remain in line."

"Schultz, I have a duty to my men," replied Hogan reasonably. "You know I can't leave them to the Kommandant's mercy. The man is ruthless."

Schultz trotted after him, but as Kinch started to slip away, the sergeant stopped, hesitated, then chose the easier option.

"Kinchloe, please," he whimpered, "where are you going?"

"He's just checking for me, Schultzie," said Newkirk, moving in front of Schultz. "I didn't want to worry anyone, but we did leave the barracks in a bit of a rush, and I wasn't sure if I left everything safe." He put his arm round Schultz's shoulder, and turned the sergeant away from the barracks, taking on the task of distraction with practiced ease. Kinch didn't bother to speculate about what fantastic web of confusion that devious mind was preparing for poor Schultz; Newkirk was second only to Hogan in that respect. Kinch dropped back, stooped a little, and crept away to the barracks.

As the bunk went up, Stella appeared at the foot of the ladder, pale and anxious.

"We need you to do something," Kinch whispered.


	10. Chapter 10

"What are you doing here, Hogan?"

Hogan always made a bet with himself over what Klink would say first. He had just won tonight's wager; he hoped it was a good sign.

"I'm here to represent the interests of my men, sir," he said.

"Your men," replied Klink, "are in serious trouble." He looked very pleased with himself. "Attempting to escape carries severe penalties, as you are well aware."

The Kommandant took his place at the desk; for a moment, his back was turned, and Hogan took the opportunity to send a silent query to LeBeau, who gave a tiny negative head-shake. No pick-up, then, and no code book; one less thing to worry about.

Klink, sitting very upright, regarded the two offenders with a pitying expression.

"How did you escape the compound?" he asked. _Right on cue, _thought Hogan. He had just won his second bet.

LeBeau stood very straight, gazing into the distance. Carter just looked slightly puzzled, as if he'd been asked where his dinosaur was.

"Kommandant," said Hogan, "you can't expect these men to answer that."

"Silence, Hogan!"

"I'm just saying, you wouldn't want them to tell tales on the guards, would you? I mean, anyone can forget to lock a gate..."

"Hogan....!" The Kommandant rose, and walked round the desk. He stopped in front of LeBeau. "Well, cockroach?"

LeBeau didn't even blink. "I have nothing to say," he replied, with his eyes fixed at the level of Klink's armpit. The temperamental little Frenchman was in death-before-dishonour mode; he could maintain this ice-cold demeanour all night and beyond, if he had to. Klink knew this, and moved on to the easier target.

"Sergeant Carter?"

Carter's brow wrinkled. "Yes, Kommandant?"

"Sergeant Carter, I am asking you how you got out of the compound."

The bemused look deepened. "You mean today, sir?"

"Yes, today." The familiar frustrated whine was manifesting.

Carter pondered for a few seconds. "You know," he said at length, "there was so much going on, I've forgotten."

Hogan, standing behind Klink, gave him a small nod of approval. The Germans almost always assumed that Carter was the weak link, but when he chose to play dumb, there was nobody who could be dumber. Klink's irritation was rising, and the higher it rose, the more the situation slipped out of his control.

He changed tack. "Were you meeting anyone outside?"

"You mean today, sir?" said Carter again.

"Yes, yes, today!"

"Like who, sir?"

"Anyone!"

"I don't think I know anyone round here. LeBeau, do you know anyone round here?" LeBeau gave him the most beautiful dirty look; for a second Hogan thought he meant it. He decided to muddy the waters a little.

"Kommandant, I resent that question," he said angrily. "You're accusing these men of clandestine behaviour."

"Hogan, I will not tell you again...!"

"Well, I'm sorry, sir, but I can't stand by while you make these wild accusations. My men may have their faults, but they'd never go sneaking round meeting people behind your back. It wouldn't be respectful."

It was lucky that Klink was looking at him. LeBeau's face twitched uncontrollably, and Carter went red with suppressed laughter. Even the guards standing behind them exchanged expressive glances.

Klink glared at him. "Hogan," he said, "I advise you to tread carefully. I am this close to sending these men to the cooler for the duration of the war. One more word and I may send you there with them." That was an empty threat, but he might well lock up the pair for a few days. Under the circumstances, not a desirable result. Hogan prepared to backpedal.

There was a rap at the door, and two of the guards burst in with scant regard for protocol. "_Herr Kommandant_!" one of them bellowed. Everyone winced. It was a small office.

"Yes, Schaeffer, what is it?" said Klink, in a pained voice.

"We have found a place where the wire has been cut, _Herr Kommandant_," said Schaeffer, still too loudly. "And we found these." He held up a set of wire cutters.

"That was quick," observed Hogan appreciatively. He recognised the cutters. Newkirk had acquired them from the Germans some time before. Shame to lose them, but at least there would be no awkward questions about _how_ the wire was cut. They could always get a new set, when things settled down.

Klink regarded them suspiciously, then turned on Carter, ignoring LeBeau. "Where did you get these wire cutters?" he demanded.

"They look like yours, Kommandant," said Hogan, trying as always to be helpful.

"Thank you, Hogan. You have not heard the last of this. Thirty days in the cooler for these two men."

"Oh, come on, sir, have a heart," protested Hogan.

"Anything more from you, Hogan, and it will be sixty days. Take them away."

Hogan gave his men an apologetic look, and wondered if all parents felt like this when their children reached the stubborn age.


	11. Chapter 11

Klink had turned obstinate, and Hogan still had two men in the cooler.

"We have to get them out of there by tonight," said Kinch.

Stella looked as if she agreed. In LeBeau's absence, the quality of the meals she was receiving had declined; she was at that moment investigating the composition of a bowl of stew which had been smuggled to the barracks from the mess, a couple of hours before. It had not been improved by keeping. "Is it animal or vegetable?" she asked, prodding with a spoon at a mysterious floating object.

"Neither," replied Newkirk. He was leaning against the frame of the barracks door, keeping an unobtrusive watch on the compound. "Don't eat the green bits."

Hogan was answering Kinch. "Klink's dug his heels in. He's not gonna budge. Anyway, we can bring them out through the tunnel after lights out. We just have to make sure they're not missed. What worries me is the extra patrols. Klink still hasn't called them off."

"We should be able to dodge them, Colonel," said Newkirk.

"That's probably what LeBeau and Carter thought, last night. No, we need a diversion. Kinch, how's your Burkhalter?"

"Burkhalter?"

"Yeah, Klink won't reassign the patrols on my say-so, but if General Burkhalter requests some additional security for a special secret convoy to the south..."

"I get you, Colonel," said Kinch; then, in a thin acidulated voice, "I will call Klink at once and arrange it."

"You won't, you know," said Newkirk, still in the doorway. "Burkhalter's just driven in."

Hogan crossed to the door and looked out. "This just keeps getting better," he said under his breath. "Coffee, guys. Stella..."

"I know," she replied, in a tired voice. "The tunnel. I should have brought a novel with me."

"Yeah, I hear _War and Peace_ is good," said Hogan.

She shook her head. "I've read it. It doesn't end well." She let herself into the tunnel, and Hogan joined Kinch and Newkirk in his quarters, where the coffee pot with its hidden speaker was already in place.

The sound of a door opening; Fräulein Hilda's voice, announcing the General's arrival; a burst of effusion from Klink, cut short by the same back-of-the-north-wind voice that Kinch had imitated so convincingly a few moments before. "Quiet, Klink." And a wheezing grunt, as Burkhalter lowered his massive bulk onto a chair.

"Yes, General," said Klink miserably. He was terrified of the man. "What can I do for you, General?"

"I have seen your daily report, Klink. Two prisoners attempted to escape last night."

"They were recaptured immediately, General. I assure you there was no likelihood of success. There has never been an escape from Stalag 13."

"So you keep telling me," said Burkhalter. "Incessantly."

Klink fell silent.

"I will interrogate these men myself," Burkhalter went on, after a lengthy pause calculated to reduce the Iron Kommandant to jelly.

"But, General, I have already interrogated both men."

"I'm sure you have, Klink," replied Burkhalter, in a dry, skeptical tone. "Nevertheless, they may have more information to reveal. An enemy plane was detected in the area last night. It escaped before we could shoot it down. I wish to determine if there is a connection between the plane and your escape attempt."

"General," said Klink feebly, "I am sure it is just a coincidence. How could my prisoners have anything to do with an enemy plane? They have no contact outside the camp."

"That remains to be seen. Have the prisoners brought here for me to question them. Separately."

"Oh, that's just perfect," muttered Newkirk. Hogan folded his arms and thought.

"Okay, here's what we're gonna do. Newkirk, get to the cooler, warn the guys to stonewall, and not admit to anything. And send Stella back up here." Newkirk nodded, and left.

"Kinch, you're going to have to go to Gardheim with Newkirk. Whatever happens we're going to be delayed getting underway. If you and Newkirk can get inside and find the lab, it'll save time at that end. I'll have to wait in case things go wrong here, so I'll spring Carter and LeBeau and we'll meet you there."

"Colonel, you and LeBeau are the only ones that know the castle layout," said Kinch.

"No, we're not," replied Hogan.

Kinch saw at once where Hogan was going with this, and he didn't like it. "Colonel..." He broke off as Stella came in.

Hogan did not waste any time. "Stella, is your German as good as your French?" She nodded. "Okay. I want you to make an anonymous phone call to the Kommandant. You're going to report a suspicious meeting at Weizenfeld last night. Two men who were expected didn't turn up; you think they might have been escaped Allied airmen. You suspect there is another meeting planned for tonight, at the deserted inn by the Weizenfeld bridge. That should get the Krauts out of the camp, and out of our way."

"I can do that," said Stella. "Anything else?"

"Yes," replied Hogan. "I'm going to take you up on your offer. You're going to Gardheim with Kinch and Newkirk tonight."


	12. Chapter 12

A brief but intense shower of rain had left a thin silver sheen across the road; reason enough, perhaps, for the driver of the big black car to maintain a cautious speed. He drew up briefly, just past the crossroad. If any observer had been present, they would have had to be watching very closely to notice when, from among the trees that crowded the roadside, a shadow - no, two shadows - emerged, and slid into the car; one into the back seat, and the other, the smaller one, next to the driver. Then the car moved on.

"Any problems? asked Kinch, crouched behind the driver's seat, ready to duck out of sight if necessary.

"Nothing worse than having to explain you two if we get stopped," replied Newkirk grimly, his eyes fixed on the road.

"With luck they won't look in the back," said Kinch. "I'm sure you're up to explaining the lady."

"If it's all the same, I'd sooner they didn't get the chance to ask," snapped Newkirk. As per the original plan, he was wearing SS uniform, but they had abandoned that idea as far as his companions were concerned. The limits of plausibility did not stretch even as far as trying to pass Stella off as an officer; it was easier, Newkirk had argued, to pretend that he had borrowed an official vehicle for the purposes of off-duty hanky-panky, and to hope that Kinch escaped detection altogether.

Newkirk glanced at his injured hand. Before leaving the camp, he had allowed Stella to rearrange the bandage, reducing the dressing to a less incapacitating strapping of the third and fourth fingers. They were aching badly, though not unbearably, but if they ran into trouble, he knew he couldn't use a gun.

Apparently luck was with them so far; the only sign of life on the road to Gardheim was a lorry travelling in the opposite direction, the driver of which was too intent on keeping from sliding off the road to spare them much attention. By the time they reached the dilapidated barn at the end of a narrow, neglected lane, they had not seen another vehicle.

Newkirk retired to a corner to shed his uniform, while Kinch unfolded a map on the hood of the car, and shone his flashlight across it.

"Stella, you know how to get to this tunnel entrance?" he asked.

She studied the map, frowning. "There's a drainage ditch, from the castle to the river. I believe - yes, down river from here, not far. The ditch is open for a few hundred yards, but after that it's a fully enclosed drain which passes beneath the Schloss. The supply tunnel branches off beneath the redoubt, and leads into the defensive emplacements."

"I don't like the sound of that," observed Kinch. "A drainage system sounds a bit cramped."

"It can't be too narrow, or it would be no use as a supply route. I'm sure it's manageable." She gave him a speculative look. "Jack was a bigger man than you, and he made it through. There's likely to be water, though, or possibly sewage. The outflow is supposed to be disused, but one never knows."

"Oh, nice," said Newkirk, joining them. "And I just got new boots."

Kinch grimaced. "If that's the worst of it, we'll be lucky. Don't forget what they're making up there."

They made their way along the river bank. The rain had cleared, and the clouds broken and dispersed, but it was bitterly cold. Occasionally a gap in the trees allowed a glimpse of the Schloss, a dark, formless mass against the brittle starlit sky.

The ditch was so choked with weeds that it was almost invisible. They became aware of it only when the ground fell away beneath Newkirk's feet. He surpassed himself; even Kinch hadn't heard some of those words before.

"Are you okay, Newkirk?"

"Fine. Just up to me bleedin' ankles in..." He bit back the last work, with a belated remembrance of the presence of a lady, and finished, "...mud."

Kinch sighed, and looked at Stella. "He says it's mud."

"He says a lot of things." She took his offered hand, and slithered over the edge, landing with a squelch. A moment later, Kinch was beside her.

"I hope it gets better than this," he remarked.

In fact, it got much worse, once they entered the enclosed part of the outflow.

At least the supply tunnel, once they reached it, was dry, although the stone-lined walls threw out a chill that condensed each breath to a suspension of mist. The passage was low and narrow, with an ascending slope, and the echoes of their footsteps returned with a longer delay than seemed natural.

At length the incline gave way to a set of shallow steps. Kinch stopped, and directed his flashlight beam towards the ceiling. "Trap-door," he murmured. "Now, will it open?"

"It did in 1936," replied Stella. She leaned with one hand against the wall, getting her breath.

Kinch passed the flashlight to Newkirk, braced both hands against the timber slats of the door, and gave a cautious push. It gave reluctantly, with an angry metallic screech, and he froze.

"If anyone hears that..." whispered Newkirk. They waited for a few moments, listening for any signs of activity. Kinch peered through the narrow opening he had made.

"It's dark up there," he said. Then, as nothing was heard, "I think we're safe." He applied more pressure, and the door lifted with a further protest. Then he nodded to Newkirk, who edged past and slipped through to the space above.

"All clear." He took the weight of the door to allow Kinch and Stella to join him, then lowered it carefully into place.

The chamber above the tunnel entrance was small, and unfurnished apart from a couple of ancient rugs. The beam of the flashlight revealed reddish-brown painted walls, the paint flaking away to reveal white plaster beneath. Two narrow windows, shuttered on the outside, cut through the wall on one side, opposite a door, studded with heavy iron nails.

Newkirk eased the door open. "Looks safe," he murmured.

"Where to from here?" Kinch asked.

Stella considered. "To the right. I think it's best if I go in front. Otherwise I'll have to give directions on the way, and I don't suppose we want to make any noise."

She was right, and however much Kinch wanted to protect her, he had to agree. They had got inside the Schloss, but the hardest part still lay ahead.

There were scratches in the paintwork by the wall, shining white in the narrow beam of light. Just scratches, Kinch thought; but then Stella noticed them. "We're in the right place," she said, very softly, touching the wall with tender fingertips.

Not scratches. Initials. Four sets of initials, left by four young Englishmen, exploring on a dare.


	13. Chapter 13

Another big black car was on the road; an older, crankier vehicle than the one which had passed earlier, but it handled the difficult conditions well. The driver was certainly pushing its limits, and driving much too fast for his passengers' peace of mind.

The brakes were sound, as was proven when the overturned lorry came into view around a blind corner. The car squealed to a stop with a jolt that drew from the passenger in the rear a desperate wail: "Jeez, Colonel..."

The driver hardly seemed to hear him. "Damn it, _nothing's_ going right!" he snarled, and wound down the window to fling a curt enquiry to the unfortunate lorry driver: "_Was ist hier passiert?"_

The response was belligerent, until the man caught sight of the SS uniform. "_Bitte, mein Herr..._" he trailed off.

The driver cut in ruthlessly. "We need to get past immediately."

"_Herr Unterführer_, I regret...the lorry is...I cannot move it," the man stammered. It was obvious, in any case. The road was hopelessly blocked.

"There is another route," suggested the front-seat passenger, regarding the driver anxiously.

The driver did not reply, but with complete disregard for the safety of the man in the road, threw the car into reverse, performed a terrifying multi-point turn and sped off.

There was silence in the car until it was well embarked on the detour. Finally LeBeau spoke: "Colonel..."

"I know," replied Hogan. A brief pause, then: "I shouldn't have sent them ahead."

"Do you think they're okay?" asked Carter from behind.

"I don't know," said Hogan. "But the longer it takes us to get there the more dangerous it is."

Carter took a deep breath. "If we hadn't run into that patrol last night..."

LeBeau uttered a low angry growl, but Hogan interrupted them both. "Carter, this is not your fault. Is everything secure back here?"

Carter checked the rucksack at his feet. "All safe, Colonel."

"Good, because I'm putting my foot down." And Hogan proceeded to test the quality of German car manufacture beyond any previous effort.

* * *

"Now we're getting somewhere," said Stella. She had stopped before a narrow arched doorway, higher than any they had previously passed.

However unprepared she might have been in other respects for this mission, she knew her way around Gardheim. She was not over-confident, but she had led the way without hesitation.

Newkirk tried the door, then produced his lockpicks. "Keep an eye out," he murmured.

"What's taking so long?" asked Kinch, after an unusually long delay. Newkirk glared at him, and briefly displayed his bandaged fingers. It took him only a few more seconds to open the door, which gave onto a wide, high-vaulted space, with a flight of stairs going up on one side, and a narrower one descending on the other.

"Upstairs is the Great Hall," said Stella, "not very likely. Downstairs, servants' quarters, kitchens, storage, and beneath that, the cellars. There's access via the courtyard to the old stable block as well, and that's a possibility. But the Colonel thinks the main kitchen is the most suitable area for the purpose."

Newkirk took the lead as they descended. The steps were shallow, and deeply worn, and the darkness was as heavy as black velvet, until the last turn of the stairs, where an electric glow from below cast a yellow illumination. Newkirk signed to the others to wait, and crept to the foot of the stairs, which ended at a cross passage. He peered around the edge of the wall, then ducked back and made a quick, silent retreat. Kinch pulled Stella back out of sight.

"Sentry," whispered Newkirk.

They scarcely breathed, listening to footsteps approaching the stairwell. Kinch's gun was in his hand; but the steps passed by, and continued along the corridor.

"Which way do we have to go?" asked Newkirk.

"To the right. The kitchens are at the end of that passage."

"Do we take this guy out?" asked Kinch under his breath, knowing that Newkirk had more experience in these situations.

He considered the question, then shook his head. "Not if we can help it. We don't want to cause any more row than we have to. Wait till he goes back."

The footsteps returned, passed the stairs again, and faded away. Newkirk went ahead again, looked both ways, then gestured to Kinch and Stella to follow.

Their goal was directly ahead, and easily seen in the harsh electric light; the dark, uneven stonework of the ancient walls was rudely interrupted by a massive modern steel door, wedged into an existing doorway. Newkirk prepared to open it.

"If the guard comes back," he told Kinch tersely, "you'll have to shoot him." Stella flinched slightly. But the guard did not reappear before the lock was dealt with. Newkirk pushed the door open, and edged inside.

"Bingo!" he murmured.


	14. Chapter 14

The main kitchen of Gardheim was vast, a great open working space with a high ceiling crossed with dark ancient beams. All culinary fixtures had been banished, however; the clean shining benches, looming tanks, metal and glass fittings, were for a different kind of cookery.

"Don't touch anything," said Kinch. The whole setup made him feel sick.

Nobody moved for a few fast heartbeats; then Newkirk stirred uneasily. "Right. We found it. Now we better head back." He opened the door a crack, then closed it again. "Wait."

The thickness of the door meant that nothing could be heard from outside, and they could only guess how long before the sentry was out of sight again. Kinch found himself counting under his breath: "One - one hundred, two - one hundred, three..." Stella was close beside him, still and silent; by the dim light he could see Newkirk was sweating.

When he thought enough time had passed, and with more caution than Kinch had believed he possessed, Newkirk eased the door open again. The passage was clear, and they slipped out. Stella and Kinch ran to the stairs, Newkirk waiting only to close the door, leaving it unlocked.

Back the way they had come, and good fortune still seemed to be with them, until they were almost halfway. They had reached the outer corridors, when the shout came: "_Halt!_"

Stella was leading again, and on the word she ducked into a side passage. With the others following, she scampered through another opening, onto the landing of a timber stair. She ran down the first few steps; Kinch, just behind her, vaulted over the banister onto the second flight, then again from there to the floor beneath. There wasn't time to think; Stella and Newkirk followed, and they took cover underneath the upper flight, ready to run again. But the quick descent had worked. They heard boots on the upper landing. "_Sie sind nicht hier._" Retreating footsteps. And then silence.

Kinch glanced at Stella. "Can we get back from here?" he whispered.

"It's possible, but will take longer," she said, frowning as she consulted her mental map.

"They'll be looking for us," said Newkirk. He looked shaken, and was cradling his injured hand.

"Yeah, we guessed that," replied Kinch. "You okay?"

"Gave it a wrench getting over the banister. It's fine." It obviously wasn't.

Kinch looked around. "We're going to have to split up. You go with Stella, get her back into the tunnel till the Colonel gets here. I'll try to draw them off."

"Kinch..."

"Newkirk, you're hurt. You might need to use a gun, and you can't. It's better if I go. Stella..."

"I know. Go on." She had gone pale, but she seemed calm. He couldn't say any more, but gripped her shoulder for a moment, and then bounded off up the stairs.

Newkirk watched with resignation. "You and him, eh?" She didn't reply, and he gave her arm a little sympathetic pat. "He's right, Duchess. We have to meet the Colonel, tell him where the lab is, and what's happened. Which way?"

Stella's voice shook a little. "If we go on through there, we can come back around to the entrance from the other direction."

It was unsettling, moving through this part of the castle; the corridors were darker, and closer, and had a musty, unused smell. Stella seemed less assured than previously, but her knowledge was sound, and they reached the tunnel room safely.

"Okay, Duchess, this is where I leave you," said Newkirk. "You'll be okay in the tunnel. Just wait for the Colonel."

"Where are you going?" she asked.

He gave her a bleak smile "Going to find Kinch, if I can. Duchess, I have to," he went on, as she began to protest. "He's me mate. And if I can't find him, I can at least give the Krauts something to keep 'em occupied. You have to pass on the location to the others. If that doesn't happen, none of this is worth anything."

He read acquiescence in her face, and turned to open the trap-door. His own expression changed; he dropped on one knee, staring in disbelief, then ran his good hand along the narrow, almost invisible edge of the door.

"Well, that does it," he murmured.

"What's the matter?"

He looked up. "There's no way to open it from this side."

Stella took that in. "There has to be," she said, and joined him at the edge of the closed entrance. A brief inspection confirmed it; the trap-door, perfectly fitted to its opening, and without any gaps or protuberances in its surface, could not be opened from above.

Newkirk swore. "I should have left it open," he growled. Then he rubbed his eyes, thinking rapidly. "You'll have to wait here, and hope they don't search this far. I'll try to keep 'em busy."

"Do you think they will come this far?"

"I don't know. It's the best chance we've got, anyway."

Stella looked around the bare unfurnished chamber, as if seeking a hiding place. Her eyes fixed on the door, then on the wall beside it, where years before her brother and his friends had carved their initials. "Better if neither of us is found anywhere near here. May I borrow that door opener of yours for a minute?"

"What do you want it for?" he asked, puzzled.

"Graffiti."

He looked from her to the wall, and began to smile. "You little vandal," he murmured.

"Put it lower," he added, as she began her work. "About..." He thought for a second, and put his finger on the wall, several inches below his own eye level. She nodded, and scratched energetically for a minute or so.

She handed the pick back, and he slipped it back into the case, then dropped it on the floor under the inscription. "They'll only take 'em off me. Maybe the Colonel can use 'em. You sure you're up to this?"

"I'm sure."

"Right. Let's give 'em something to think about, then."

* * *

The two parties missed each other by barely twenty minutes.

Hogan was first out of the tunnel, opening the trap-door fully and hoisting himself out. Carter handed him the rucksack before scrambling up, and both of them hauled LeBeau out of the tunnel.

"Leave it open," said Hogan curtly, as Carter began to close the trap-door. He played his flashlight around the empty room.

"Colonel?" said LeBeau, hesitating.

"I know. They didn't get back." Hogan's voice hardly changed, but LeBeau shivered at the tone.

"Maybe they just got lost," Carter faltered. Hogan didn't appear to be listening. He walked towards the door, but stopped as something scraped against the floor under his foot. He picked it up.

"Newkirk's lockpicks," said Carter, quite unnecessarily. Hogan slipped the set into his pocket.

"Right," he said. "We don't have a lot of time, and we still have to find the lab. Keep quiet, and stay close."

He opened the door, then closed it again, instinctively flattening against the wall. This turned the flashlight directly into LeBeau's eyes, and he blinked and turned his face to the wall. Carter, behind him, hugged the rucksack to his chest as if it were a baby.

The heavy tread of boots - two pairs - passed on the other side of the door. They did not stop. Hogan let them die away, then reached for the door again.

"_Attendez_," said LeBeau. He was still staring at the wall, at a faint but neatly marked inscription, just at his eye level, illuminated dimly by the edge of the flashlight beam. "Colonel," he said, "I think they did get back."

The message was brief: _Main kitchen, ground level, 1386 structure._

Hogan tapped on the wall with one finger. Clearly something had gone badly wrong for the advance party, but with every instinct demanding that he try to find them, the first duty was to the mission. He took a deep breath. "The quickest way is to the right, but whoever just went past, went in that direction. If we go left, it's a longer way round, but possible, right?"

"_J'en suis sûr_," replied LeBeau, after a moment's thought.

"Okay. We go left."

"Colonel...?" said Carter. His eyes were big and anxious. Hogan just shook his head.

"Sorry, Carter. We can't help them now."


	15. Chapter 15

Kinch was in no mood to admire the Great Hall. It wasn't a handsome chamber in any case. Something was not right about the proportions; perhaps the angle of the roof, or the height of the walls. It had a neglected atmosphere. Even the furniture was wrong; the great heavy desk and timber cabinets at the far end would have suited a high-status military office, but were undersized for this enormous space.

Kinch was keeping quiet, trying to remain still to ease the discomfort of his bruised ribs. He was aware that if the two SS guards, one standing each side, decided to beat him again, he could end up hurting very badly indeed. Their superior paid him no attention, but remained seated at the desk, studying some documents.

There was no way to keep track of time, so Kinch had no idea how long it was before a commotion at the far end of the hall put an end to his hopes for the safety of the other two. They were escorted in, none too gently, and pushed into line next to him. Still the man in charge did not look up. Kinch shot a reproachful sideways look at Newkirk, who gave a tiny shrug.

At length the commander laid down the sheet of paper that had occupied him, and said in a disinterested voice, "Report."

"_Herr Sturmbannführer_, these two were found in the stable block."

The officer stood up and strolled over to where the prisoners were standing. He was not tall, shorter by half a head than Newkirk, but perfectly self-possessed, and he moved gracefully, like an athlete. A handsome man, were it not for the thin deep scar line running from his upper lip across his cheek to his left ear. He disregarded Kinch, but stopped for a moment before Newkirk, studying him with an assessing eye. When he reached Stella, a smile lifted one corner of his mouth; the other, with the scar, remained immobile.

The major addressed two of his men. "Call out the guard, and go and start checking the perimeter. And search the stable block again. There may be more." As they left, he turned back to Newkirk, apparently under the assumption that he was in charge. "Your name?"

Newkirk did not reply. This must be the man who had been mentioned in the initial briefing, the one Hogan had described as a "nasty piece of work". Fürst, that was the name.

The major waited for almost a minute, then sighed. "You people always make things so complicated. Allow me to assure you, you will tell me, eventually, who you are, who sent you, how you gained access to this facility and with what purpose. We can make it easy, or we can make it - not easy."

Receiving no response, he took a step back. "Very well. Let me make a few guesses." His eyes flickered to Kinch. "American." Back to Newkirk. "Engländer." And finally, to Stella. "I'm not certain. But I'm sure it will be a pleasure finding out."

Kinch made an involuntary move forward. One of the guards shoved him back again, hard. Fürst did not seem to notice. He continued his survey of the Duchess for a moment, then turned his attention back to Newkirk.

"Now," he said, in a cool, polite tone, "let us start again. Your name.

* * *

Hogan's party had made it as far as the lower corridor. Their route had crossed the inner courtyard, which was risky enough; there seemed to be a lot of activity around an arcaded structure which, as far as both Hogan and LeBeau remembered, was supposed to be the stables, and which now appeared to be used as a garage. The place was really stirred up, and Hogan wondered what the hell Newkirk and Kinch had been up to.

Whatever it was, it was keeping the Krauts distracted; there was nobody to be seen in the kitchen passage. As there was no cover and the place was brightly lit, this was good news.

"Colonel," said Carter, as they approached their destination, "that's a really big door."

"No kidding," muttered LeBeau. Hogan reached into his pocket for Newkirk's lockpicks. He'd watched the Englishman at work often enough; maybe he could swing it. But when Carter tried the door, it was already unlocked.

It must have been instinct, because there was no sound to warn him, but Hogan had turned and fired before anyone realised the sentry was there. It was a lucky shot.

"Carter, inside," Hogan ordered. "LeBeau - give me a hand." Between them they dragged the body into the kitchen chamber and closed the door.

None of them spoke for a minute, as they took in the apparatus which filled the chamber. Carter broke the silence: "This place is really creepy." His voice sounded small and uncertain.

"Yeah," said Hogan. "It's a good thing we're clearing it out. Let's get on with it."

* * *

Major Fürst was getting nowhere with these prisoners. The American was surly, the Englishman stubborn, and the woman appeared to regard him as if he had crept from under a rock. Breaking her would be a worthwhile challenge, if he had the time.

His patience was coming to an end, however. He wanted results, and now rather than later; his professional dignity was at stake. He spoke to the Engländer again. "You are being most unhelpful," he said. "I think perhaps you need some encouragement."

Turning to the guards, he pointed towards the American. "Shoot that one."

The guards shoved Kinch to his knees. Newkirk started forward, but stopped as Fürst pointed a pistol at his head. The major held up his other hand. "Wait."

Kinch raised his head and met Newkirk's shocked gaze.

"Well?" asked Fürst, in a pleasantly conversational tone. This had gone better than expected. "Are we likely to come to an agreement?"

Newkirk was still looking at Kinch, who was breathing hard.

"Excuse me."

A clear, low-pitched voice cut across the room. Newkirk's head snapped around.

"Duchess!" he hissed. She ignored him; she was watching Fürst, who returned her regard with faint amusement. His pistol was still aimed at Newkirk.

"_Meine Dame_," he said, in an overly polite drawl, "forgive me. I have forgotten my manners; most remiss of me. I wonder whether perhaps you might be more co-operative than your friends."

"I think there might be a more civilised way to negotiate" she replied.

Newkirk moved again, and Fürst raised the pistol slightly. "I will kill you if I have to," he said. "Go on, please, _meine Dame_."

She flushed at his tone, and before answering, touched her cheek with one finger, drawing a line from her ear to her upper lip, in imitation of the scar across the major's face. "Student corps?"

"You are very observant, madame. Yes, I have that reminder of my student days."

"Do you still fence?"

"Whenever I get the opportunity," Fürst tilted his head a little. "I don't fence women," he added, in the voice of a man prepared to be talked round.

Kinch caught his breath. It was only two nights ago that she had been telling him about a singing master, an art teacher - and a fencing instructor. _Don't do it, Stella_, he thought. _Please..._

"Where I come from," said Stella, "it's considered poor form to refuse a challenge."

That got to him; the smile vanished. "Very well," he snapped. "But there has to be some benefit. If I am the winner, you, or your friends, will tell me everything. Agreed?"

"And if I win," said Stella, "we walk out of here without hindrance."

"Oh, certainly," replied Fürst. It was quite clear that he was lying.


	16. Chapter 16

Setting up the charges was a slow process, and Carter was getting fussy about it. There was no point in trying to hurry him, but Hogan was feeling increasingly restless.

"I'm going to take a look around," he told LeBeau. "As soon as Carter's finished, head back to the tunnel. I'll meet you - _we'll_ meet you back at the barn."

"_Mais, Colonel..._"

"LeBeau, I don't want any argument."

"_Oui, mon Colonel_," replied LeBeau sullenly.

* * *

As soon as the weapons appeared, Kinch knew for sure that this was no game.

Fürst, at one end of the room, and Stella, at the other, were preparing. The major took off his jacket and belt; he would fence in his shirt sleeves. To avoid slipping on the tiled floor, both went barefoot.

The guards had crowded Kinch and Newkirk to one side, close enough at least to communicate cautiously. "What went wrong?" muttered Kinch.

Newkirk shook his head. "Long story. Ask me later. What the hell does she think she's playing at?"

"She knows what she's doing," replied Kinch, but there was dark despair in his eyes.

The swords, fetched by one of the guards, arrived in a long, polished wooden case. Fürst opened it and lovingly removed the soft white strip of fabric which lay over his playthings.

"_Bitte, meine Dame_," he said, "you may have the choice of weapon."

Stella tried them both. They were quite plain, but beautifully made, with wide bell-shaped guards and long narrow blades.

The major had provided no protective clothing; no masks, no jackets. And even at a distance, Kinch could see that the tip of each blade came to a sharp, dangerous point.

He could not bear to watch, and he could not bear to look away.

The opponents took up position, facing one another; Fürst, with his back towards the end of the hall, while Stella was closest to the door.

"The first to make five hits will be declared the winner," said Fürst. "If either is incapacitated, their opponent will be awarded the bout. Agreed?"

"Agreed," said Stella.

They saluted; the major with an elaborate sweeping gesture of sword, while Stella accorded him the barest of acknowledgements.

Newkirk glanced at the guards, wondering if they might be sufficiently distracted for him to have a go. It didn't appear likely, but he kept an unobtrusive watch on them. Kinch was completely focused on the fencers.

"_En garde_," said Fürst. Then, "_Allez_."

They might have been from different worlds. The major was very precise, his body rigidly upright, feet set at a mathematical angle, his free arm curving up above his shoulder. He stepped forward almost like a machine, very exactly, then shot forward with breathtaking speed.

Stella was ready for it. She seemed looser in her stance, almost relaxed, yet perfectly balanced. As he made that lightning advance she leapt backwards, blocked his attack, and came back on guard.

They were testing each other, each feeling for the other's game. Twice more, Fürst initiated an attack; on the third one, Stella followed her parry with a rapid counter-attack. Fürst backed away, quickly.

"Just short," he said. "Oh, my dear lady - you are good."

* * *

"All done," said Carter.

LeBeau scowled. "_Le colonel_ says we are to head back to the tunnel." He did not sound happy.

"Can't we go and look for the guys?"

"Apparently we are not to," replied LeBeau in a resentful voice, adding a comment in his own language that Carter didn't quite understand, though the gist of it was pretty clear.

Carter picked up the rucksack, which should have been empty. To LeBeau's eyes it still appeared quite weighty. "What do you have in there?" he asked.

"Well," Carter began hesitantly, "I kind of brought some extras. Smoke bombs, a couple of incendiaries. Kid stuff. I thought they might come in handy, but..." He trailed off. The same thought had occurred to both of them. Carter's eyes began to shine, and an expression of unrighteous glee illuminated LeBeau's expressive little face.

"Carter," he said, "on the way back, why don't we have a little fun?"

* * *

Hogan was at the foot of the grand staircase that led up to the Great Hall. He knew time was running short, and so far his search had found no trace of his missing team members.

The thought of abandoning them was unacceptable.

As he started up the stairs, a faint sound reached him; a distant, intermittent clash of metal upon metal. He didn't know what it was, but something about it was deeply disturbing. He ran up the last few steps, and came to a stop in the open doorway of the Great Hall, taking in a scene that, for a few seconds, astonished him into immobility.

Neither Stella nor Fürst noticed him; by now each was aware only of the other. Fürst's white shirt was streaked with blood; she had got past his guard at least once. If she was injured, her dark clothing didn't show it.

Kinch, confined against the wall with Newkirk, had no attention to spare for anyone but Stella; but one of the guards gave a startled shout, and aimed his rifle at Hogan. Newkirk, still watching for an opportunity, tackled him instantly, and they crashed to the floor, wrestling for control of the rifle. The other guard, turning to intervene, was felled by a shot from Hogan, and Newkirk, desperate, wrenched the gun from his opponent's grasp, and slammed the butt against the man's face.

Hogan was already trying to line up a shot at Fürst, but the fencers were moving too quickly for him to risk it. Suddenly Stella fell back. There was a pause - scarcely a second - Fürst made another of those lightning-swift advances, and cannoned into her, driving her back even further. They froze, _corps à corps,_ eyes locked.

Kinch got to them first, grabbing Fürst's shoulders, ready to throw the man across the room. But something was holding the pair together. Stella was white, breathing deeply, her eyes blazing. She leaned forward.

"If you'd studied defensive technique," she said, "you'd have seen that coming."

She released her grip, and stepped back, and Major Fürst staggered, slipped from Kinch's grasp and fell heavily.

Only Hogan had been in a position to see the last-moment side-step that had moved Stella's body out of the line of Fürst's attack, and even he had not been aware that in the same movement she had shifted her sword arm towards her left.

She had not attacked him. He had run on to her blade.

* * *

_Corps à corps_: _when two fencers come into physical contact with one another with any part of their bodies._


	17. Chapter 17

Fürst was not dead yet. Possibly he had not been fatally injured. Hogan didn't care.

Stella was hurt. The sleeve over her left inside forearm was torn, revealing a long shallow cut extending from elbow to an inch below the wrist.

"Anything else?" Hogan asked, examining the damage.

"I don't think so." Her voice was husky with exhaustion.

Kinch strode to the desk and fetched back the white fabric cover that had lain over the weapons in their case. He tried to wipe the blood from Stella's arm, but Hogan took the cloth from him and started winding it firmly around the wounded limb.

"Kinch, are you okay?" he asked

"Just bruises, Colonel. Newkirk's hand is really bad." Kinch sounded subdued, and he didn't take his eyes off Stella.

"I don't think I did meself any favours just now," added Newkirk. He was holding the German rifle in his left hand, awkwardly, and he looked sick. That last effort had cost him.

Hogan shook his head. "I take my eyes off you for ten minutes...Kinch, take that gun off Newkirk before he drops it." He finished the makeshift bandage. "Okay, let's go. I don't know how much time we have. Kinch, you take care of Stella, and whatever happens, don't fall behind."

"Colonel, what about them?" said Newkirk, indicating the guards with a jerk of the head.

"We don't have time," replied Hogan brusquely, "and right now, I don't give a damn what happens to them."

With the explosion possibly imminent, he was not prepared to let caution take precedence over speed, and he chose the most direct path back to the tunnel, the same course that the other three had followed, a couple of hours earlier. He was deeply anxious about Stella; he thought she had had about as much as she could take. Kinch had steadied, but Newkirk appeared to be close to his limit as well. Something was worrying him.

"Colonel," he murmured, "that trap-door. We couldn't get it open again."

Hogan looked at him. "Is that what went wrong? Good thing we didn't close it then."

There seemed an unusual amount of bustle in the narrow outer corridors. They heard it - running footsteps, agitated voices - but managed to keep out of sight until they were approaching the tunnel room. Within yards of the door, Hogan saw two darkly-dressed figures appear further along the passage. His arm snapped up, taking aim; then he relaxed.

"What are you two still doing here?" he demanded.

If ever two men had looked guilty, Carter and LeBeau did at that moment, and neither of them seemed willing to answer. Hogan looked from one to the other.

"Never mind," he said, in a voice that promised trouble later. "We better get out of here before the Krauts turn up."

"Uh...Colonel, I don't think they will," said Carter diffidently. "They seem kind of busy."

There was a pause; then Hogan pushed open the door of the tunnel room. "Inside," he ordered. "No, not you two."

He allowed Kinch and Stella to go past; Newkirk followed them, but lingered in the doorway.

"Now," said Hogan," what the hell did you do?"

Carter and LeBeau, like children caught in mischief, exchanged furtive glances. "_Alors, mon Colonel_," LeBeau said reluctantly, "we came back the long way, past the stables..."

"...and I had some extra stuff with me," Carter added, "you know, just a few smoke bombs and things, nothing much..."

"...and we saw the cars parked there, and it seemed a shame to waste the chance, but I swear, _mon Colonel_, we didn't know they were storing petrol there..."

"...so we sort of...kind of...well, sort of..."

"...we set fire to the stables," LeBeau finished.

Newkirk, propped up against the doorframe, was shaking with laughter. Hogan regarded his bad boys in silence; then shook his head, and smiled.

"I wish I'd thought of that," he said.

LeBeau and Carter relaxed. Apparently they were not in trouble this time.

"Okay," Hogan went on, "everyone into the tunnel, before this place goes up. LeBeau, you go in front. Carter, stick with Newkirk. Kinch..." He broke off.

"Colonel?"

"Kinch," said Hogan, in a last-straw voice, " where the hell are Stella's shoes?"

Carter was starting to get agitated, as they reached the junction of the supply tunnel and the drain. "LeBeau," he called, "can't we go any faster?"

LeBeau glanced at Newkirk, whose exhaustion was visible, and then at Stella, who in spite of the icy stone floor was managing, with Kinch's support, on her own bare feet.

"I don't think so, Carter," LeBeau replied. He didn't dare ask how much time was still available.

Hogan had heard them. "Kinch," he said quietly, "go tell LeBeau to get moving. We'll keep up."

He put his arm around Stella's shoulders. "Stella, I think we'll get on faster if you stop being so damn brave, and let me give you a lift."

She looked up at him in the dim uneven light, almost as if she suspected his motives. There was nothing in his face but affectionate respect, deep and unreserved. He had seen her in action now, and he knew her worth. He also knew that she had outrun her strength.

"If you insist, sir," she said.

He got her uninjured arm around his shoulders and lifted her in his arms.

Kinch was hesitating at the junction; the others had gone ahead. "It's okay, Kinch," Hogan said. "I've got her."

The first faint touch of outside air was an unimaginable relief, and the open sky was the most beautiful thing Hogan had ever seen.

LeBeau was already out of the ditch, and Carter was giving Newkirk a boost while the Frenchman helped from above. A few moments, and everyone was on dry land.

They could see the Schloss. A flickering glow was visible from the interior. "Is that...?" asked Hogan.

"That's the stable fire," replied Carter. He was tense, waiting for the results of his work; a true artist.

Then came a sudden deep resonant expansion of sound, and the wavering light was obscured by a bloom of dust and smoke.

"That was ours," said Carter. But he seemed dissatisfied.

"What's wrong?" asked Hogan.

Carter sighed. "I thought it would be bigger than that. I guess one of them didn't go off."

And a second massive wave of sound reached them. Carter's expression cleared.

"There it is," he said. "Gosh, I really need to work on my timing."

* * *

"Can I ask you something?" said Colonel Hogan.

Stella gave him a sideways glance. "I don't promise to answer."

She would be leaving them shortly. Hogan was taking her to the rendezvous himself, before meeting the rescheduled supply drop. They were alone in the tunnel, waiting till it was time to go.

"When you challenged Fürst," he went on, "were you just buying time? You knew we were coming. Were you trying to keep him distracted so we could complete the mission?"

She thought about that. "No. That never occurred to me."

He waited for more, but she didn't continue. Hogan, running over in his mind the outlines of the story that he'd had from Newkirk, came to a conclusion.

"Was it Kinch?" he said at last.

"That man was going to have him shot." There was a dark, brooding look in her eyes.

Hogan sighed. He had held off for a couple of days on sending her home, partly to give the Kommandant time to lose faith in the extra patrols, and call them off, but mostly because she needed some recovery time before tackling the journey.

"I wish I could say we were sending you back in as-received condition, Stella. London won't let us borrow stuff any more if we don't look after it."

He got a smile out of her, and a lightening of the mood. "It's nothing," she said, looking at her bandaged arm. "I'll have something to show for it, at least. Colonel, I want to ask something as well."

"Fire away."

"That's not the end, is it? They will set up their laboratories somewhere else, and do it all again."

"Yeah. Every time we put something out of action, sooner or later there's something else to take its place. At least it keeps us occupied. And we will beat them, one day, if everyone does their part. I guess for you, that's taking over where your brother left off."

"Something to aim for, then," said Stella.

Kinch came down the ladder from the barracks. "It's almost time, Colonel," he said.

Hogan looked at his watch. "I'll give you three minutes," he said. "I'll be waiting at the exit." He gave them a nod, and went.

Neither of them spoke for almost a minute, then Kinch put his hands either side of Stella's face, very gently.

"Don't you ever scare me like that again," he said in a low voice. "I thought..."

She put her hands over his, and drew them away. "I'm sorry," she replied.

"I've been thinking about what I said before," he went on. "I know it's impossible, I know it can't be done, I know it's too hard, but I don't think I can let you go. Not after what happened."

"Then don't. Yes, I know," she added, before he could speak, "it will be hard. It will be very hard. But I've been thinking, too, since long before I came here. And I've come to understand that some things in this world are unfair, and will go on being unfair, unless someone challenges them. But it's not even that. I want you, Kinch. I need to be with you. That's all."

"And if it doesn't work out?"

"At least we'll be able to say we tried."

He tried to answer, hesitated, then nodded. "I'll see you, then. Some time."

"Some time. In some other place."

It was a promise. She moved away, towards the exit tunnel, turned back and gave him a last smile. Then she was gone.

Kinch, feeling as if he'd lost something and found it again, went back up to the barracks.

"They gone then?" asked Newkirk. His tone and manner were as light as usual, but Kinch read sympathy in his glance. He nodded.

"She was a nice girl," said Carter. "A real lady."

LeBeau indicated his agreement. "_Une femme courageuse_. I will miss her."

"So will I, Louis," said Kinch. "So will I."


End file.
